Susan and the Heart of Magic
by Gamma Cavy
Summary: Magic in Narnia is dying. The four rulers set out to search for a cause and do what could be done, but it was Susan who, through an act of compassion, saved them all.


Susan paced. The fading of magic that Narnia was suffering had every Narnian frightened. Yet there was nothing she could do, except search as all Narnians were, for some indication of what was causing this, and how to stop it. Each of her siblings searched as well, but as yet nothing had been found. She had suggested that they individually scour the regions most likely to have some bearing on this, and had taken the western wilds for her own search. She hoped that some of the creatures there, the ones that were less shy of her than her siblings, might know something.

As she paced and worried at the lack of information thus far, a horse called out to her.

Turning towards it, and noting the hollowness in its frame, the weariness of its gait, and the shadows in its eyes, she judged that it either wanted to ask her about the magic, as every other Narnian had, gazing at her in hope and trust that she felt she could not disappoint, or it merely had a request for _anyone_ to stay by it as its life withered. Dreadful as it was, she found herself hoping it was the latter that it wanted. She approached the horse.

"Please, help me," it begged her, and apprehension reared in her heart. Something told her that the request would not be simple as company in death, and not even she was above fear of a creature as strange as the ones in the wilds, given the situation with the magic, and the deceptions of the Witch. The horse continued, "I am dying, but I wish to see the garden of my birth one last time before I fade. I do not have even the strength to climb the hill to it."

The apprehension vanished like morning mist, and pity flooded her for the poor thing. Seeming to take her silence as refusal, it continued, "I will grant you the only gift I can give if you will do this one thing for me." It bent its head a little, and at the sight of the silver apples it bore in its mane, growing there as if from the branches of a tree she realized that this was not merely a Talking Horse, but one of the beings of the wilds.

"No need," she replied. "I cannot refuse such a request." She stroked its back, and noticed that its hide was rough beneath her fingers, like the bark of tree, or the skin of a hamadryad.

"Then take the gift now," the horse said, and she found herself reaching up to the apples in its mane, before she even thought about it. The moment she touched an apple, it fell into her hands, and the horse sighed. "I am glad to give my gift one last time, before the end."

As she walked beside it, it looked to the green hill. "Once I stood at the crest of that hill and watched all the world spread out, from the center of my garden," it lamented.

Together, they climbed.

As they neared the high wall surrounding the garden, a wall which looked as if there had once been many green things growing upon it, but now was cold stone and brown vine stems, the gates set in the wall swung open. Beside her the horse sighed, and as she looked at her companion, she noticed in horror that the apples remaining in its mane were withering, and the hollows above its eyes were growing more pronounced.

Together, queen and horse walked through the garden. It was grey, and brown, and dead, but even withered as it was, she could see that it had once been beautiful beyond compare. There was a fountain near the center, dry and dusty, as still as the rest of the garden. And near the fountain was a place, which looked as if something had once stood there. The horse let out a low moan, "I should have known that here it would be no better than elsewhere; but I had _hoped,_ I hoped that this place might have been spared!" Her companion walked to the center beside the fountain, and lay down.

It moved Susan's heart to see the old horse, which had held on, and been so strong, dying in such sorrow, denied even the comfort of its home. She wanted to do something, anything for it. As she ran to its side a heavy weight bumped her leg. What—? Oh, the apple.

Apple.

Horses and Apples.

Perhaps there was a comfort she could give, after all. She drew the apple from her pocket, and held it before the horse. "Please, eat it!" she begged, feeling tears run down her face for the valiant animal.

"Child, that was gifted to you…" it sighed. "You brought me here. It is yours."

"You've come all this way. You have to have something good left to you other than a memory! And if this is a gift I can do what I want with it, and I want you to eat it!"

It whickered, and accepted the apple.

The garden flushed green, and all the colors of every flower in the world. Fruits grew in an instant, and a mighty surge of power rocked everything, leaving her feeling refreshed, and she knew that that would echo through all of Narnia. Beside her, her companion neighed. "Too long was I bent to a long cold," it declared. "I owe you more than I can ever repay!"

The fountain gushed to life again.

Susan could feel the air _humming_ , as something long faded sang through it, and she realized with a start, magic was returning. "How?"

There was a rustle beside her, and she turned back to the horse. The horse was rearing now, and its back legs had taken root in the ground. In a moment there was no horse at all, but a tree. A tree heavy with silver apples, casting a light over the garden and the fountain and her.

 _"My thanks,"_ came a last whisper from the horse-tree.

The heart of magic, Susan realized with a shock.

* * *

 **A.N. This was a very vivid dream I had several months ago, about Susan helping a horse and the horse being the tree from The Magicians Nephew. When I told my family about it my father suggested I write it down, and so here it is, unchanged from the dream version. Remarkably so considering that I wrote it down three months after I wrote it.**


End file.
